


Catbread in Transition

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [15]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's moving day and things are getting complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread in Transition

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Raiders of the Lost Sub_.  
> Thanks to Tinx_r for the table legs line, from her _Inside Information_.  
> 

On Monday morning, Lieutenant Quinlan woke up alone. Murray had spent the previous night aboard the _Riptide_ and it was quite possibly the last night he would ever spend there. Quinlan knew the kid was a little sad about that and he was sorry, but not so sorry that he would choose to keep waking up alone. He ate his breakfast, got in his recently acquired '83 Fairmont and went to work, knowing Murray would be there when he got home.

Nick and Cody got up early to help their friend pack and found Murray already well into the job.

"Here, Boz, we made you coffee," Cody said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Oh. Thanks, Cody. I should have done that; I was the first one up."

"We have to get used to doing things for ourselves again," he shrugged and regretted it when Murray winced.

"I—I'm sorry, guys. Am I being selfish?"

"No," Cody said at once. "Murray, you made a hard choice, but I think it was the right one. We—I'm not going to lie to you, we're really going to miss you, but you have to follow your heart."

"He's right," Nick seconded. "And you know we'll always be here. If—if anything happens, if you ever want to come back, we're right here."

"Unless we're out fishing," Cody said with a bit of a wicked grin.

"Yeah, I'm going to miss that."

"We'll go some weekend when you two can come along. Things aren't going to change that much," Nick said firmly, really needing it to be true.

"Sure, I know," Murray said bravely and went back to packing his clothes in cardboard boxes.

"Do you have your equipment sorted out? Do you know what you're taking?" Cody asked, looking at the shelves of electronics.

"Sort of. I guess I should take most of it, since I do a lot of my inventing and stuff after hours. But when we need something for a job, we usually need it right away, so I'm not sure. I guess I haven't thought it through enough."

"Well," Cody said reasonably, "how are we going to do this? Do you want to work eight hour days and do your inventing here when we're not doing anything else? Or do you want to work at home and just come in when we need you?"

"I—um—I guess I should work from home. We don't do much during normal hours anyway. If you guys need anything, you can always come to me. I won't be far away."

"Did you and LT talk about that?" Nick asked.

"About what?"

"Is he gonna be okay with us hanging around there while you work? Or you doing stakeouts when you should be home in bed?"

"Well, no, we haven't talked about that specifically. But he knows what we do. I'm sure it'll be okay."

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance, each seeing their doubts reflected on the other's face, but neither said anything. Murray was an adult. He and Quinlan would have to settle that between themselves.

"Besides," he said, just as if he'd seen that look, "he works nights sometimes, too. Now, how are we going to move all this stuff?"

"My friend Paul's bringing his pickup," Nick said. "He's got a guy to help with the carrying, too."

"Oh, good. Cody, can you get that stuff over there on that shelf? Be careful, don't drop it."

"Yeah, I got it. This here?" he asked, lifting a random component.

"Yes, all of those, please. In fact, I guess it would be easier to specify what I'm not taking. Do you want me to leave the agency records and files?"

"You handle all stuff, Boz. Where do you want to work on it?"

Murray liked the idea of having a reason to come back, but he also liked having something that would make him indispensable to his friends, just in case they decided they didn't really need him.

"I guess I should take it, if it's all right with you."

"It's fine with us," Nick said, glancing at Cody to make sure he agreed, "if it's okay with LT. He's probably going to wonder why you bothered moving, if all you do is work."

"That won't be all I do," he replied distractedly and went on packing.

***

Paul and Jim showed up at eleven and they loaded the truck in under an hour. It would have taken slightly less time, had Dooley not wanted to help, but at least he didn't make a big deal out of Murray's simple statement that he was going to live with Quinlan. Dooley was in the know, and one of the few people who thought Murray was genuinely happy with the lieutenant. Mama Jo, when she came over to bring Murray fried chicken and apple pie, asked him in private if he was really sure, and if the guys would take him back.

From anyone else, that would have been unforgivably offensive, but Jo was Quinlan's family, too—or at least she used to be—and he figured she must have her grudges. He thanked her for the food and told her he would come right back if he needed to. He didn't waste time telling her that it wouldn't come to that. That wasn't what she needed to hear.

"I know he isn't going to hurt you on purpose," she said suddenly. "He's never going to hit you, and he isn't a cheater like his worthless half-brother, but he has a different set of problems. He isn't patient, and he doesn't know how to be kind when he doesn't feel like it. If it gets to be too much, you get out, okay? There's no shame in failing with a man like that."

"I know, Mama Jo. I know what you're talking about; I really do. So you can trust me when I say it'll be okay. I won't let him get to me."

"He's been a better man since he's been with you, anyway," she admitted. "Maybe people can change."

"Maybe. I think I have, a little. And thanks again for the chicken."

"Anytime, child. And you know where to get more if you want it." She patted his cheek as if she were his grandmother and walked on down the pier. Murray headed up to the Jimmy with the plate and pie pan, wondering what she knew and determined not to ask.

***

The cats weren't out of their closet yet so Murray let the guys take some of his things into the bedroom. The bulk of it went into the second room, which already had a few bookshelves and a nicer desk than the one he'd left behind. Nick and Cody assembled the heavy shelving units and began unpacking his equipment as Paul and his friend Jim carried the boxes in. Murray oversaw, muttering instructions not to damage anything and occasionally wringing his hands. But they were done soon enough, leaving the final set-up to him, since he was the only one who could really do it right.

He invited everyone to stay for lunch, but Paul and Jim both had to get to work. So it was just the three of them drinking beer and eating cold fried chicken, trying to be comfortable in Murray's new home.

"I'm sure going to miss the ocean," he said suddenly. "The sound of the waves and the way the boat rocks—I really loved that."

"You won't be gone long. We're meeting a client tomorrow, in fact," Cody told him. "Nick's friend, Jim, that Ted bought the car from. You should be there for that, and if you need to do any computer work, we can just come back here."

"Really? Jim? What's the case?"

"We don't know yet. He just made the appointment to come talk. Will you be ready by then?"

"Yes, of course. I don't have to do much, and the lieutenant won't be home until after five."

"You know, I still can't get over how you call him that," Nick said, shaking his head.

"I always have. Oh, I use his name sometimes, but mostly it just doesn't feel right."

"You guys are so weird. Most people use proper names in public and pet names in private, but you're just the opposite. Does he ever just call you Murray?"

"Mostly only in bed," Murray said blandly and drank some of his beer while his friends choked on theirs.

"That's just too hard to imagine," Cody said, shaking his head.

"It's no different than you guys."

"Except that it's you and Quinlan, and that's just—weird."

"So don't imagine it. And don't ask questions that you don't really want the answers to, because you know I always answer." He was smiling as he spoke, but it was easy to see he meant his words. He didn't have much of a sense of humor where the lieutenant was concerned.

It seemed best to drop that subject so Nick started talking about some work he had to do on the _Mimi_. Murray listened more intently than he usually did when the subject was Nick's helicopter, but now he had a real concern.

"We never talked about the money."

"What money?" Nick asked, but Cody understood.

"Well, we've always had the one bank account and just put everything in it. I can't really do that now; I have to pay my way here. So how will we split it up? Can you guys get by all right without my share?"

"Sure, I think so," Cody said. "At least we won't be buying anymore of your computer parts."

"Yes, but I won't be putting in my royalties and lecture fees for engine overhauls and piston rings."

"I think we can manage," Cody said again. He didn't want Murray to feel guilty or obligated on what should be a happy day. "And if we can't, we can always hit you up for a loan, right?"

"Yes, right, of course," Murray said with something very like relief. "You can call me for anything, even if it's just to watch you work on the boat. I'm really going to miss things like that."

"We're going to miss you, too," Cody said quietly. "But it'll be okay. You'll be having fun here."

"Yes, I think I will. But still…"

"Yeah, we know," Nick said. "Still…"

They hung around for a while and then left so he could finish setting up his computers. Murray hugged them both, as if he wasn't going to see them the next morning, and Cody whispered that he was doing the right thing. Murray nodded and let him go.

Without them, the house seemed too empty and quiet. He turned on the radio and wondered if they would feel the same way when they got back to the boat. But there were two of them, and they were probably going to hang out on deck and talk to the neighbors. Murray wondered if any of the neighbors here would like him, or if he was even allowed to talk to them. It might be dangerous, though he wasn't quite sure why. Just a feeling Quinlan had imparted, that they could do what they wanted inside the house, but maybe they shouldn't be involved with anyone outside it.

After a while the commercials on the radio began to annoy him and he turned it off. Quinlan had gotten a stereo the day after he came back and Murray put on one of his Charlie Daniels cassettes. That was a little better. Then he got into his work and forgot to be lonely or sad. There was too much to do.

The doorbell interrupted him a little after five and he went to answer it, not even asking himself who it could be. When he opened the door, he was so surprised to see Cody that he didn't notice at first who was standing behind him.

"Cody, what are you doing here? Is everything all right? Is Nick okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I'm sorry about this, Boz, but we didn't have the phone number and—"

"Scooter, what are you doing here?" Melba cried, pulling his attention away from his friend.

"I'm really sorry, buddy," Cody said again and backed down the steps, leaving Murray with his family.

"When the guys said you'd moved out, I thought they were playing a joke to get back at me, but it's true, isn't it?" She looked near tears and Murray took her hand, drawing her close as he hunted for the words.

"Well, aren't you going to invite us in?" his mother asked.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry, where are my manners? Come in Mama, Daddy. Gosh, I wish I'd known you were coming. Everything's such a mess. I just moved in today and there really isn't any place for—"

"That's all right, sweetheart," his mother said. "We have hotel rooms already. And Melba wanted to surprise you. She's presenting a paper at a conference in LA and we came to see her speak. She wouldn't let us tell you a thing about it."

"Oh. Yes, that's Baba," he smiled, not as amused as he usually was by his sister's surprises.

"But she's right. Why on earth did you leave your friends? The way you talked about them, we thought you'd want to stay there forever."

"I—they—they didn't tell you?"

"They wouldn't say anything," Melba pouted. "I even tickled Nick, but all he'd say was we had to ask you. Did you have a fight, Scooter? You know you could just make up if you wanted to."

"No, Baba, we didn't have a fight," he sighed. "Come in, sit down."

The three of them lined up on the sofa like Supreme Court judges minus the robes, and Murray perched on the edge of the Barc-o-Lounger with no idea where to begin.

"Come on, son," his father said gently. "Just tell us what happened. You and your friends always seemed so happy."

"Yes, we were. It's not about that. See—Baba, you remember Lieutenant Quinlan, don't you?"

"Sure, the funny little cop. But he's dead, right?" she asked, puzzled. "What does he have to do with anything?"

Murray swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. That was when his mother saw the ring.

"Murray, sweetheart, what is that? Did you get married?"

"No," he said quickly. "That is, not really. I—I fell in love. I moved off the boat to live here with—with the person I love."

"You finally met a girl?" his father said, surprised and more than a little pleased. "That's wonderful."

"Yes, it is," his mother agreed. "But you aren't getting married?"

"Don't push the boy, Marta. It's a whole different world than when we were young."

"It really is," Murray agreed. "See—I—I don't really know how to explain." He was blushing miserably, unable to meet their eyes, but still no one seemed able to guess.

"It's—it's not two girls, is it, son?"

"Oh hush, Matthew. The boy has some morals, even if he does live in California."

It was meant to reassure him, but Murray looked ready to cry. He'd always intended to explain it over the phone, where he couldn't see their faces, or maybe tell Melba and let her tell them. But now he was stuck. He couldn't lie and he couldn't tell the truth. Not to those confused but loving eyes.

"Mom, you always told us you'd love us no matter what. When I hacked the school computer and changed the answer keys to the finals senior year, and when Baba wrecked her Valiant, you said you'd forgive us anything."

"Of course, Murray. All kids do things like that. Well, maybe not the hacking, but you never snuck out at night or came home drunk, so we counted ourselves lucky. But you're scaring me now. Sweetheart, what's wrong? What aren't you telling us?"

"Lieutenant Quinlan isn't dead," he said flatly. "I thought he was when I told you that, but it turned out to be a—a cover. He had to go away for an undercover job and everyone was supposed to think he was dead. Even me."

"Even—Scooter, I don't understand," Melba said helplessly. "He wasn't your friend—you two hated each other."

"We used to. Or I thought we did. When you were last here, at least. But by the time he died—or rather, when he went away—we—we'd been lovers for several months. Then his job ended and he came back and—and we decided to live together."

"That's not funny," Melba said, trying to laugh. "You didn't even tell it very well. We have to work on your delivery if you're going to try and pull off jokes like that."

But Murray just stared at her, his eyes shining wetly behind his glasses, and Marta put a restraining hand on her daughter's arm.

"Murray, is this true? That you're in love with this man that we've never even heard of?"

He nodded miserably, rubbing his eyes hard to keep from crying.

"No," Melba said, jerking away and getting to her feet. "Scooter, I don't care if you're gay, but not _him_. That just can't be true. And how could you not tell me?"

"Because he was _dead_," Murray snapped, almost shouting. "And when I found out he wasn't, it was a secret. I couldn't tell _anyone_. What was there to say? I used to be in love, but he's dead now and my heart's broken? What good would that have done?"

"But he's back now?" Marta asked quietly, making him feel ashamed of raising his voice.

"Yes. He's back for good and I—I just couldn't be away from him anymore."

"_Quinlan_?" Melba asked, still disbelieving. "That short, obnoxious cop who called me chickie? _That_ Quinlan?"

"_Yes_," Murray barked, rising to stop her from towering over him.

They were still standing there, facing off in hostile silence, when the door opened and everyone jumped.

"What's going on here, kid?" Quinlan asked and Murray didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There was a brief silence while he pulled himself together and when he spoke his voice was steady.

"Lieutenant—_Ted_—this is my family. You remember my sister, Melba. And these are my parents, Marta and Matthew Bozinsky."

He was holding a paper grocery bag and Murray went to take it, glad to escape to the kitchen, even if it meant risking fireworks between Melba and Quinlan. But he was only gone a few seconds, and when he returned, the lieutenant was shaking hands with Matthew.

"Murray didn't tell me you folks were coming to town," he said pleasantly.

"It was a surprise," Matthew said, the first time he'd spoken since Murray dropped the bomb.

"Oh? Who was more surprised, him or you?"

"He's trying to play a joke," Melba said, her voice trembling. "But it's not a very good one."

"Melba, honey, don't," her father said, but it was too late.

"What joke's that?" Quinlan asked. Murray eased up beside him and slipped an arm around his waist, as if that would stop her words.

"He wants us to think that he's—that you're both—that you're lovers. Isn't that hilarious?" But her laughter was desperate and her eyes afraid.

"Did you tell them that, Bozinsky?"

Murray squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

"Good for you, kid. I didn't think you had that kind of guts. Are you folks staying for supper? I was going to make spaghetti."

"If—if that's all right with Murray," Marta said and he nodded again.

"Good. Come help me a minute, kid." He stepped away and grasped the hand that had been resting against his back. They went into the kitchen and Melba sank into the abandoned chair, her face pale with shock. She'd never imagined that Quinlan, if he even lived there, would actually play along.

"They don't believe me," Murray whispered under the rustle of paper and the running of water in the sink.

"It's a lot to take in all at once. Faggot would have been bad enough, but you're piling on back-from-the-dead-lover-that-you-used-to-hate, too. You have to give them a minute."

"I should have told Melba a long time ago. No wonder she's mad. She must feel like I've been lying all this time."

"She's not mad, she's scared," he said simply. "I've seen that look enough to know. What about your folks? Are they gonna give you any of that immoral sinner shit?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Then take your sister in the other room and talk to her. Tell your mom I could use some help in here and I'll charm her for you."

"Really?" he asked, too hopefully to escape a little teasing.

"Really. I still remember how to treat a lady, even if all I get to practice on is you."

"Thank you. I—I'm so glad you got home early. I was really taking on water out there."

"Well, now you're underway and making no way," he said, one of Cody's pet nautical phrases. "Go get your mom and let's settle this so we can eat. I didn't get any lunch and I'm fucking starving."

"You didn't get lunch? Why not?"

"Stop fussing. I'll tell you about my day later."

"Okay. But just so you know, I love it when you talk like a sailor." He kissed Quinlan, meaning it to be swift and fleeting, but the lieutenant caught him and made it last. When they looked up again, the family was in the doorway. Murray blushed again, Melba was in tears, and their parents didn't know where to look. It was Quinlan who spoke first.

"Mrs. Bozinsky, would you mind giving me a hand with this? Murray tells me he learned everything he knows about cooking from you."

"You like his cooking, do you?" she smiled. "I started teaching him when he was just a little boy."

"Yes ma'am, it shows."

Murray threw him a grateful smile as Marta rolled up her sleeves and went to work washing lettuce for the salad. Then he grabbed Melba's hand and led her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Scooter," she said at once, "this _is_ a joke, isn't it? You don't really love that awful man, do you?"

"I wouldn't kiss him for a joke, Baba. Here, sit down and tell me why this is bothering you so much. Is—is it the gay thing? Because I never thought you'd have a problem with that."

She sat on the edge of the bed and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from the nightstand.

"No, of course not. I never minded Nick and Cody—in fact, I sort of hoped you'd stay with them. You could have been a—a threesome, and lived there forever."

"Yes, well, I thought of that, and they _did_ mind. But that was before I fell in love with Ted."

"That's the part I don't understand. I thought he was funny, sure, but he was also a world class asshole. People were trying to kill us and he didn't care. He didn't even believe us. He—he called you names and ridiculed us all, and it wasn't even unusual. You guys said he was always like that and you didn't expect anything different. How can you give yourself to someone so—so far beneath you? You deserve so much more, Murray. You deserve all the love in the world."

"Baba, I have it. He—he wasn't what we thought. And even if he was then, he isn't now. He _does_ love me. He says so, and he shows me, every day. He's good to me. It's really kind of a funny story, how it got started, but it's not a joke. We belong together."

"You're serious, aren't you? He—he makes you happy?"

"Very much so. Baba, I know it seems strange, especially after everything you've seen and heard, but he's—he's the love of my life."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

Murray sat down beside her and took her hand again. She moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and he sighed with relief.

"It was a secret at first. I was afraid of how people would react. Nick and Cody were away when it started and I didn't even know how to tell _them_. They caught us making out and Nick beat him up pretty bad. Well, they beat each other up, really. And it stayed a secret, because we were afraid."

"You weren't afraid of me, were you?"

"Not in the same way. I would have told you at Christmas, but he died and I just couldn't talk about it. That's why I didn't go home last year. I could fake the Christmas spirit with the guys, because they knew what I was going through, but I couldn't be around people who didn't. And it didn't seem to matter. What would I have said, Baba? I'm gay and in love, but he's dead? What good is that?"

"When did you know he wasn't?"

"Earlier than I was supposed to. He risked so much to see me, and I went to him a few times. When I was so sick in May, he came back to be with me. It was him posing as Uncle Mike at the hospital, and that's why we didn't want anyone else coming. We had to protect him. He's only officially been alive for about a week."

"And when were you going to tell me? Murray, I thought we were closer than this. I thought we had trust."

"I didn't want you to laugh. I was so afraid of—of what happened today. But I would have told you soon. Probably next weekend, I would have called. I never expected you to show up and catch me while I was moving like this."

"Okay, I guess I haven't really proven you wrong. But you're really happy? You really love him, and he loves you back?"

"Yes, Baba, really. He likes to hide it, especially around people we know, but he loves me more than anything. And he's really trying to prove it, being nice to Mom and everything. Promise you'll give him a chance?"

"Sure, Scooter. Of course I will. I love you more than anything, too." She kissed his cheek and he held her for a long time, trying to decide if he should ask the next question. Finally, he decided he didn't have a choice.

"What about Dad? He hasn't said anything yet. Do you think he's—disappointed?"

"In you? Of course not. Why would he be?"

"Well, fathers don't generally like their only sons to be gay. It's a man thing, I guess. And I'm supposed to have children and carry on the family name."

"I don't think he'll be too worried about that. Do you think you'll be with Quinlan forever?"

"I'm not planning on leaving him for a woman, if that's what you mean."

"That's what the ring is for, isn't it? You really are married."

"As much as the State of California will allow, which is not at all. But it keeps the hot geek girls from hitting on me," he added with a laugh.

"Well, as long as you're happy, Scooter, I'm happy for you. But I'll miss visiting you on the boat and teasing the guys. They're so much fun."

"I'm still going to be over there a lot, and I know they'd love to see you. When's your conference, anyway? We have a meeting tomorrow morning, but I'd love to hear your presentation."

"It's tomorrow afternoon. Can you come?"

"Probably. It depends on the client we're meeting. We don't know what he wants yet. Come on, let's go see how Mom and the lieutenant are doing."

"You really still call him that?"

"It's a balance of power thing," he said and she nodded. When it mattered, Melba always understood.

***

Quinlan and Matthew did most of the talking over supper. Murray's father was interested in both police work and the intricacies of returning from the dead, and Quinlan answered a lot more questions than he had ever been known to do for anyone else. There were no insults, and he even called Murray by name a few times, to show that the respect was mutual.

When the meal was finished, Marta and Melba offered to clean up and do the dishes, and he accepted Melba's offer. Marta, he encouraged to stay at the table and have another glass of wine, which she agreed to when Melba joined in with her insistence. Matthew had something to say to his son and they went into the living room alone.

Murray sat beside him on the sofa, wondering how his father would feel if he knew what happened there just the other night and felt himself turning red.

"Daddy, are you mad at me?" he asked suddenly. "I didn't mean to deceive you, I really didn't. It just got so complicated…"

"I can see that, Murray. No, I'm not mad. You fell in love and it's a complicated situation, even without him dying. I'm not going to tell you to think it over or anything like that. The heart leads the mind in these matters, and thinking doesn't help much, does it?"

"No. If I could have stopped it I would have, for my friends, if not for myself. But I love him and he—he loves me. We need each other. I just can't help feeling like I'm letting you down. I know this isn't really what you raised me to be."

"No, it isn't exactly what we had in mind," he said and Murray's face fell. Then he went on. "But that doesn't make it wrong. We raised you to be good and kind and loving and that's what you are. It sounds like he's had a hard life and you're probably about the best thing in it. That's all we could have wanted for you, Scooter. If you're happy, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Daddy," he whispered. "I was so afraid you'd be disappointed. I—I never wanted to disappoint you."

"You could never do that, Murray. I'm so proud of both of my children. And so is your mother. He certainly knew the way to her heart, didn't he?"

"Well, I talk about all of you a lot. He doesn't have any family and he pretends he doesn't care, but he likes to hear about mine."

"No family at all? That's terrible."

"Well, he has an ex-wife, and a grown son who won't talk to him. He won't really explain why. All I know is they haven't spoken for a couple years. Except when the lieutenant came back from the dead and his son said he shouldn't have. That was pretty bad."

"Does he know about you?"

"Not really. I called him when—when Ted died, but we didn't talk much. I said I was a friend of his father's and he said his father didn't have friends. I was pretty upset myself so I didn't try to explain. Honestly, I didn't want him to know."

"Just as well. A person like that could make a lot of trouble if he wanted to. I imagine you've considered your—reputation."

"I've thought about it. We're not being terribly open right now. I'm telling most people that the boat was just too crowded for three, and with Quinlan and me keeping different hours, it works out better."

"And the ring?"

"I used to make things up. That it was Grandpa's or something, but now I just don't say anything. I think people probably know, at least our friends and the people around town, but as long as we keep it quiet, they won't bother us. We won't be marching in any parades and we don't make out in public. Ted gets disgusted when straight people do that."

"Old fashioned, is he?"

"Sort of. He does like holding hands at the movies, but only in the dark." His father smiled at that and Murray knew it was going to be okay.

"What about at work? I've heard that it can be hard for police officers, even in progressive areas like this."

"Yes, but he has rank to help protect him. And, like I said, he's not very open. Some of the cops know, but he's not exactly the stereotypical fairy. All of those guys have seen him fight, and more than a few have lost to him. I think they probably know better than to mess with him now. And if they don't—well, we've rescued him before."

"You're lucky to have friends who support you. A lot of men lose even their closest friends when they come out."

"Well, that would be awfully hypocritical, wouldn't it?" he smiled and was surprised by his father's puzzled expression. "Wait, you didn't know?"

"Know what, Murray?"

"About Nick and Cody. They've been lovers forever; since the war, even. Although they were separated near the end because Cody was sent home first. He lived with a friend while he waited for Nick to come back and they've been together since then."

"No, I didn't know. I thought they were just good friends."

"They're that, too. It's not really a secret. I thought Baba might have told you. Anyway, just about everybody in town knows and no one bothers them. It's more what kind of person you are than what you do, I think."

"As it should be. Murray, I'm always going to be proud of you, and there's never going to be anything you can't tell me, all right? I'm your father and I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy," he said, hugging him hard and blinking back tears.

***

"I wonder what they're talking about in there?" Melba asked no one in particular. "It's awfully quiet."

"If I know my Murray," her mother smiled, "he's feeling bad and your father's trying to reassure him."

"Bad about what?" Quinlan asked sharply. If it was him, he didn't know what he'd do. Apologize maybe, or throw them all out.

"Murray always feels guilty when he has a secret. When he was a child, the priests really emphasized that children had to tell them, and their parents, everything. He's never really gotten over that," she said calmly. Quinlan hadn't thought about priests before and wondered how much guilt the kid was really carrying.

Before he could answer, Matthew came in, followed by a relieved looking Murray, and said it was time to get back to their hotel. Melba almost asked if she could stay a little longer, but remembered just in time that it was Murray's first night in his new home and he probably didn't want his little sister hanging around.

"I'll give you a ride," Murray offered and Quinlan tossed him the keys without comment. He couldn't get into much trouble in a four door Fairmont anyway. It wasn't like driving Nick's car, or even Cody's.

"All the way into the city? Aren't you tired?"

"No, no, I insist. You don't want to take a cab all that way."

Quinlan was tempted to offer to drive, or at least go along, but the car would be crowded and he figured they'd want time alone. These people hadn't come all the way from Chicago to spend an hour in the car with him.

"Let him, Mom. It'll give us more time to talk, anyway." Melba put down the dishtowel and hugged Quinlan, kissing him on the cheek. "Goodbye, Teddy. Thanks so much for supper."

"Anytime," he said graciously, overlooking the name for the sake of peace. Marta hugged him, too, and Matthew shook his hand. Then they were gone, and Quinlan headed for the sofa. He was exhausted, but he wouldn't go to bed until Murray got home.

***

"Jeez, kid, what kept you?" was the first thing he said when Murray walked through the door.

"I had to drive to downtown Los Angeles, Lieutenant. I think I made pretty good time, considering the conditions on the freeways."

"Traffic was bad?"

"Good heavens," he sighed. "I saw a terrible accident just happening on the way home. A semi blew a tire and the driver tried to stop. His trailer caught fire and people were driving into each other in the smoke—it was awful. If I'd been five minutes later leaving the hotel I'd still be stuck out there behind it."

Quinlan was thinking about worse things than being caught in traffic and got up to follow when he went into the kitchen.

"The wine was a nice touch, but you didn't know we'd be having guests," Murray said, pouring the last little bit into a glass.

"I was gonna get you drunk and fuck you 'til you cried," Quinlan shrugged.

"I keep telling you, you don't have to get me drunk for that." He swallowed half the wine and handed the glass to Quinlan, who finished it without comment. "I'm going to take a shower. Can you wait five minutes?"

"For you? I'd wait ten."

Murray went into the bathroom smiling, thinking how nice it was to have his own things _and_ enough room to move, instead of having to settle for one or the other. He turned on the shower and fiddled around putting things away while the water got hot. It had been a good day altogether, except for the wreck on the freeway. He hated to see things like that. But talking to his family, telling them about Ted and finding them wanting to share his happiness, those things more than made up for the sorrow of the day. Even leaving his friends didn't seem so bad, although he tried not to think much about that. He didn't want to be sad tonight. He thought about Quinlan instead, and was already half hard when he got out of the shower.

"Eight minutes," Quinlan said when he came into the bedroom.

"I decided to split the difference. Anyway, I figured you'd want me clean."

"Yeah, I do," he said seriously. "Come here, kid."

Murray took off his robe and got into bed, blushing a little over his own impatience and the way it was echoed and magnified on Quinlan's face. He lay down, surrendering himself to the strong hands that caressed him, relaxing at first, as if that were the point. But his lover's mouth on his was sweetly insistent, rousing his senses, singing in his nerves, bringing his whole body to attention. He gasped helplessly at the loss when Quinlan broke the kiss, biting Murray's jaw, his throat, his collarbones. Bruising and gentle and bruising again, biting his nipples and sucking them until he cried out, long fingers clutching Quinlan's short hair.

His hands traveled down Murray's body, stroking his sunken belly and narrow thighs but carefully avoiding his twitching erection. The nervous shudder of the thin body excited him but he fought it back, kissing and biting him everywhere but where he needed it most.

"Lieutenant, please," he sighed, his hand on Quinlan's neck as if to take control. But he wouldn't and they both knew it. His ideas of propriety and power necessarily precluded shoving his cock down Quinlan's throat. All he got was a soft tickle of laughter against his ribs and the lightest brush of a finger up the inside of his thigh.

"Please," he whispered again, and this time was answered with words.

"Please what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Everything."

"Everything?"

"Hmm. Yes, everything. Why not?"

The light finger tickled up and down his thigh again, and then the warm mouth was lipping his sac, making him stiffen and reach again for fistfuls of hair. One long, slow lap up the length of his shaft, one quick, thorough suck of the head, and then Quinlan was pulling away, out of reach.

"No, don't stop," Murray cried, his hips jerking reflexively toward him.

"You said you wanted everything." He gave one more small lick and turned Murray over, kissing his hips and back, tasting the soapy clean flavor of his skin and the salt of his sweat. He spread the long legs just a little, tickling his thighs until they twitched apart, and then stroked the tickle away.

Murray pressed into the mattress, trying not to lose it as Quinlan bit his ass, and then almost screamed at the feel of a warm, firm tongue touching the very center of him. It was unbelievable, forbidden by every rule that he thought existed between them, and so ridiculously good that he didn't care. So hot and wet, licking and probing, teasing nerves he hadn't been aware of even after all this time, and Murray felt himself coming apart. He gasped and groaned, hands fisting helplessly in the sheets as he ground himself against the mattress. Then he felt the other man shift just a little and whimpered a shameful plea not to stop. But he wasn't stopping, just easing one hand under Murray's belly, wrapping it tight around his throbbing cock as the tonguing went on.

"Oh please," he whispered, soft and broken. "Please, Ted…it's too much. God, no, please…"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. No, just—I don't know."

"Well, I do," he said firmly and went back to work. Murray tried not to thrust and failed, but Quinlan caught the rhythm and brought him off swiftly, making him cry just as he'd wanted. When he stopped, Murray was still shuddering, his face buried in the pillow, and this was something he understood, however big a mystery the rest of Murray's power theories might be. He slid out of bed, pulled the covers up to Murray's waist with a gentle pat, and said he'd be right back.

Quinlan wasn't gone long, but it was long enough for Murray to stop shaking and start getting himself back together. He brought a glass of water and Murray drank it, then pulled his lover close.

"I—I can't believe you did that," he said after a minute.

"But you liked it."

"Yes. Oh, yes. I'm just surprised that _you_ did. I always thought it was kind of—dirty."

"Hell, that's what Listerine's for. And I like watching you turn to jelly once in a while."

"Once in a while? Try every time you touch me."

Quinlan laughed that laugh that used to sound grim but now seemed to mean a lot of different things.

"Good. Because we're not done here."

"No?" Murray asked with interest.

"'Course not. That was just foreplay, kid. I haven't fucked you yet." He felt Murray shiver and smiled, almost grim, but playing, too. Pushed him down on his back and sucked him erect again, then turned him over and touched him with one gentle, spit-slick finger. Murray groaned and pushed back, his muscles still loose, his body inviting. Quinlan reached for the lube, but didn't spend long preparing him. He really didn't need to.

Murray groaned, low and long, as the thick cock slid into him, flexing his neck so that his head pressed against Quinlan's shoulder. The groan trailed off, lost in a kiss, as Quinlan's arm slid around his chest, his hand lightly gripping Murray's throat to feel the vibrations of his pleasure. His other hand found Murray's, caught his fingers and wound through them, his body heavy on the slender back. Murray shifted carefully until the head of the shaft within him rested on his gland, then set a mild, rocking rhythm that made it slide and nudge without breaking contact. His body moved like ripples on a pond, tightening and releasing, sending waves of pleasure radiating through them both.

"God, kid, you trying to keep me up all night?" Quinlan whispered, biting his ear lightly.

"I can take it as long as you can."

"Longer, probably. Fuck, you feel good."

"Yeah, I do," he grinned and twisted to catch Quinlan's lip between his teeth.

They kept it up as long as they could, until Quinlan couldn't resist the pull of the tight flesh around him anymore and had to thrust hard, had to bury himself in it with force that wrenched a startled, happy cry from the man beneath him. He rose up on his hands without releasing the fingers that clutched his, giving them both freedom to move, to buck and scramble and writhe, and Murray was shouting but he didn't come and he didn't pull away. He pushed it until Quinlan came and they both collapsed, panting and shuddering, one with tension and the other with release. Quinlan lay buried within him for a moment, catching his breath while biting Murray's shoulders in a way designed to be anything but soothing. The wavelike undulation continued, although subdued by the weight of Quinlan's body and frustrated by his waning erection. When he withdrew, Murray whimpered, that soft shameful sound that only this man ever heard, and he was not punished for it.

"Don't worry, kid. I said you were gonna get everything and you are. Turn over."

Murray obeyed numbly, his body a distant entity of pulsing blood and tingling nerves, brought home to him abruptly by the feel of Quinlan's mouth on his cock and one thick finger deep inside. His soft whimpers turned to hoarse cries and then ragged screams that he choked off by jamming his forearm in his mouth. There was no propriety now, no balance to maintain, only the need to come, as concrete and finite as life and death. He clutched at Quinlan's neck with one hand and thrust desperately, seeking warmth and depth and in it the release that would let him draw a real breath again. He found it when Quinlan stroked his hyper-sensitive gland, but before he could breathe, he had to scream and sob and break his chest open to make room for his bursting heart.

It took a long time for Quinlan to soothe him down, cuddling him close and holding his trembling hands, neither speaking because there were no words bigger than what they'd just said, and nothing smaller could help. Murray pressed his face close to Quinlan's neck and breathed deep of him, his sweat and aftershave and the sweet musk of sex, and after a while the world stopped spinning and the lights in his brain dimmed enough that he could see.

"Okay, Murray?"

"Yeah. I think this is the only thing that could make me okay today. How do you always know that?"

"I don't. I didn't even know you were having a bad day."

"It was good, but hard. Moving, and seeing my family—these are good things, but they're stressful. I was so afraid of what my parents would think. And Baba already didn't like you, after that whole thing with the submarine."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Seeing you with a hot chickie like her wasn't easy, and when you said she was your sister—well, I didn't really believe it. But I had to cover, just in case."

"You were pretty funny. You called me sweetheart, and I remember thinking that was a little weird, even for you. We must have really had you shaken."

"More than I'm gonna admit. You don't need to know everything, even if you do let me fuck you blind."

"You did, too. For a minute there, I thought I might be having a stroke."

"You're too young for that, kid. You want another shower or do you want to go to sleep?"

"Shower, I think. And maybe change the sheets."

Quinlan went with him, made him lean against the wall in the tub and washed him with the same brisk efficiency he used to use when patting him down and handcuffing him. That made Murray smile, and eventually he asked why.

"I was just thinking about all the times you got to grope me under the guise of a lawful arrest. That must have been fun."

"Yep. Even more fun that frisking your friends."

"Tell me you aren't that big a slut," Murray grinned.

"Hey, I can appreciate a tight butt as much as the next guy."

"No kidding."

"But you were always my favorite. You've got the kind of legs that were made for tying to tables, you know. And someday we're gonna do that."

"That sounds like fun. I suppose now that I live here, we can do all kinds of things that used to be too risky."

"That was kind of the idea. That and having you around for the eight o'clock western every night."

"But we missed it tonight," Murray said, sighing happily as Quinlan crouched and ran the washcloth down his long legs.

"Just the beginning. We can watch it in bed if you want. I think it's _Hang 'em High_."

"I like that one. I'll fall asleep, though."

"It's okay. You're about asleep now, aren't you? Come on, rinse your head and let's get out of here."

They dried off in comfortable silence and put on their robes, then went to change the sheets. It was half an hour into the movie when they got into bed and Murray didn't bother to put his glasses on. He was asleep before it reached the one hour mark and Quinlan didn't last much longer. It had been a busy day for them both.

***

Sleep was a lot longer in coming for the two men aboard the _Riptide_. They lay in their bed, curled up together without the benefit of television, missing their friend and feeling sure that he was missing them.

"What if he's made a mistake?" Nick asked worriedly. "What if he regrets it and feels like he can't admit it?"

"I don't think he will, buddy. We said he could come back and he said he would, but I really think he's going to be happy. You've seen them together. And you always believe it when they're right in front of you. It's just when they're not that you get all paranoid."

"Well, we don't know what's happening when they aren't in front of us. He could be crying right now and Quinlan not doing anything about it."

"Nick, he's not crying. He's a grown man, and Quinlan loves him. If he is hurting, and I doubt, but just in case, Quinlan will take care of it. Remember the last time he was hiding out here and Murray got sick? Remember how Ted held him while he puked and never said a word? That wasn't for us, either. He was doing it before we got up. And you wouldn't have done it yourself. You know you get sick when you're right up close to vomit."

"Yeah, I know. I just—I miss him. I miss just knowing he's there, playing with his computers and humming his geeky little songs. There's just this big empty place on the boat and nothing's ever going to fill it."

"Murray will fill it when he comes over tomorrow," Cody said reasonably and the darkness hid the tears in his eyes.

"For a while," Nick sighed and burrowed closer into Cody's warmth. "I'm sorry, man, you're right. Just hold me and I'll get over it. I still have you, that's what matters."

"You're always gonna have me, Nick. It's okay, I promise."

Nick nodded against his chest and after a while they both pretended to be asleep. It was a long time before the lie became true.


End file.
